Stefan's Musings on a New Platform

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I travel more than I like. This puts me on planes more than I like. This makes me cranky.

Not because I don’t love the four forces that act on an airplane that keep it aloft (drag, lift, gravity, and thrust) – nothing fascinates me more (save yield management on said airplanes, which is totally fascinating to me. everyone should check out www.seatcounter.com)

No, I hate traveling because of people. People who probably shouldn’t be traveling, let alone leaving their house without an ankle alarm and bracelet to help them home when they wander into the streets of Federal Way, looking for those fresh JoJos.

On my most recent "travel adventure":

* The airplane was hot. The pilots were nowhere to be found (note: don’t make the following joke to the stewardesses: "Have you checked the bar?") . The stewardesses don’t have the keys to the airplane, so they can’t start the A/C. They are flummoxed – apparently, Management thinks they might hightail it to Panama should they be entrusted with airplane keys. Anyhow- hot airplane – we get it. And I’m pretty sure everyone else gets it, too. However – as every single person gets on the plane, they have to make a comment: "Wow, it’s hot on here!" And then look at me in seat 2C, as though I’m their soul mate on this Hades-Air MD80. Newsflash – unless you think my hypothalamus was excised during a lobotomy surgery, I know. And I don’t care if you think it’s hot. And I don’t want to be your friend.

* The "Hacking Man": Kind of like the one-armed man in the Fugitive, this guy – I think – was on the verge of death. I kept waiting to see the Reaper appear beside him. Dude must have coughed up at least half a pint of phlegm. On a plane. Please, please – there are drugs for that – and if you fly enough to get bumped to First Class, your company’s insurance program covers them.

* The Boarding Gate Slut: Wow. Not only was she plastered, wearing a super low cut dress (in 50 degree weather), yammering on about how much she wanted to get back to her boyfriend’s pole, but she was doing this all at VOLUME 11. The entire gate knew about her escapades. Top it off? She’s a personal trainer, but had to run out to get a cigarette before the whopping 90 min flight to SJC. And then asks me to watch her bags while she takes the train back to the main terminal for a smoke. I say sure, but then ‘forget’ and go to the bathroom. I was tempted to call TSA, but that just seemed mean.

* And last, my favorite game: "Guess the Drink". I like First Class because I get to play this game more efficiently. Try this next time – scope out your cabin mates, and try to ID the upgraders (including yours truly). Then try to guess the drink they are going to order at ‘beverage service’ time. I somehow got the hick who got bumped from their earlier flight and up to FC where he orders a jack and coke. Not bad. Then two. OK – we have 90 mins in the air. Then he is ringing the call button for a third. I’m thinking "Hey, just give him the cart". Then he passes out. Upgrade to FC? 10000 miles. Having a drunk pass out next to you on a 90 minute flight? Priceless.

One night – many adventures. Ahhh – and people ask me why I don’t like to travel…